Seasons of Life
by oldtimerocknroll
Summary: Our human lives are like seasons; though they go through the same cycle, they are forever changing and eternally new.
1. Spring

This fic was inspired by a picture I had seen somewhere in the world wide web, but unfortunately, I can't link. I don't own Hetalia, or that pic.

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Spring <strong>

_Spring is where new things begin. It is the season of Easter, when children would hand around Easter eggs as a symbol of starting anew and afresh. It is the season of new beginnings. Though the doors of times past close and seal their memories, new opportunities open up and second chances present themselves to us—even in ways which we do not see or those that take us completely by surprise._

The young man exhaustingly walked through the forest; it was his only way home. Today had not been particularly lenient on the man. His boss again scolded him for things that the man could not prevent and those which he had no hand in, but blame was put on him anyway.

This was the personification of China, or Zhongguo, as he was known back then. This era was known as the Warring States period, and it had certainly taken its toll on Yao. Some of his friends would call him by this human name.

"Aii-ya," Yao groaned, feeling the pain of the warring states upon his back. "When will they stop, aru? Have they not had enough of tearing at each other's throats and clawing at one another's faces" he complained to no one in particular, feeling another long scar forming on his already-wounded back. This is the way it is for national personifications—every revolution, every uprising and every bit of damage done by another country to the land would present themselves as inflictions on the personification's being.

"The peach blossoms are so beautiful, aru," Yao said to himself as he admired the flowers he passed by. "It must be spring already….but I wonder why it doesn't look like it, aru…" he wondered aloud.

He then saw a familiar landmark. "Just a few more steps, aru…And I'll finally be ho-"

His speech was stopped by a peculiar sight: a young boy, no older than three, was standing at a grove of thick bamboo stalks, face stoic but eyes betraying the feeling of fear.

Moved by the boy's appearance, Yao approached him and said, "Ni hao, aru~ I am China. You can call me Yao. It must have been very difficult for you to be born in such an area. If you want, you can come home with me, so you'll have a safe place to stay, aru. What's your name, by the way?"

The child looked at Yao with his expressionless brown eyes and said, "Hello, China-of-where-the-sun-sets. I am Japan, of-where-the-sun-rises. And yes, I would like to come with you…it is very cold here. Do you have food at your home?"

At the boy's introduction, Yao was shocked. "Such an impolite child, aru!"

As impolite as his greeting was, though, it was a start.


	2. Summer

Again, I don't own Hetalia or that picture from which this fanfic was born.

I'm writing it out by the order of the season that appeared in the picture. So..here's the second season, Summer.

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Summer <strong>

_Summer is where all things flourish. Despite the blistering heat, it is where most things bloom. Perhaps the discovery of a new talent or skill through summer lessons, the finding of summer love, or simply changing one's ways in preparation for the new school year makes this season the season of flourishing and development. _

Japan was sitting on the porch that morning, drawing again. By this time, Yao had learned that Japan, or Kiku, as Yao had aptly named him so, would convey messages through portraits and pictures, but never through letters or characters, the way Yao and his people did.

"Japan, I noticed you write messages through pictures only, aru. Here," Yao said, handing Kiku a scroll with simple Chinese characters. "These are simple Chinese characters. You could learn and practice them, aru."

He left Kiku to do just that. About two hours later, Yao checked on his little brother again and saw him writing the characters.

"Good job, Japan!" Yao said, praising Kiku's work.

"Thank you, Yao-san," Japan replied, getting up to get some water to drink.

Upon closer inspection, Yao saw that the characters were not quite similar to the ones on the scroll.

"Aii-ya! Don't make your own syllabary without asking, aru!" Yao exclaimed, gesturing to the newly-made syllabary.

On the scroll, calligraphied in large black characters, was the name 'Hiragana'-the new syllabary which Kiku had invented.

"This is a wonderful invention, aru~!" Yao said as he admired the puppet that Japan built to serve tea that afternoon. "A great display of ingenuity by my little brother!" he said, praising the invention once more.

"Thank you, Yao-san," Japan replied, a small smile forming on his lips. "I am glad you like it."


	3. Fall

I'm back with the third season, Fall/Autumn. I prefer to call it 'Fall' ^^; But anyway, I don't own Hetalia nor the pic in which this fic was based on.

Enjoy!

Edit, 05-01-11.

Thank you all for correcting me! I completely forgot to edit this before I posted it. So sorry.

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><p><strong>Fall <strong>

_Fall is the season for change. Though everything constantly changes throughout the year, this season is where change takes center stage. Perhaps moving up a level in school, or going miles away to a new college, or leaving the country for a different opportunity—Fall, or Autumn, is where change is the lead role. _

Japan and China sat by their porch, watching the brown leaves fall slowly from the branches, contemplating on why the leaves turn brown and fall every year.

"Why do you think it happens, Yao-san?" Japan asked, eyeing one particularly lifeless leaf by his foot.

"Hm…" China said, in deep thought. "Maybe it is because the old leaves have served their purpose, and that it is time for the young ones to take their place…" he said, wondering if what he just did made any sense.

"Is it not always like that, Yao-san? Even with the birds, the butterflies…and humans too?" Japan questioned the older, wiser man.

"You are right, Japan…." China said, trailing off.

"Speaking of serving their purpose…what do you plan to do next, Japan?" China asked his younger brother.

"The Westerners are beginning to take over our Asian brothers and sisters, and I do not like the way it is turning out to be."

China could sense the seriousness in Japan's voice. "So what do you plan to do about it?"

"I must become stronger, Yao-san," Japan said, determination in his tone. "I must have enough strength to resist the Westerners' influence."

China sighed and thought, _He is slowly changing, aru…He was so quiet and gentle when I first met him, and now, he wants to become stronger to fight…_

He looked at the leaves again, contemplating on the reason for their changing. _Maybe this is the way it is supposed to be, aru…as the leaves change color, so do the children….they prepare themselves to take over the duties of their elders. _

Japan noticed a particularly interesting leaf, still attached on the twig. "Look, Yao-san," Japan said, pointing at the leaf.

The leaf Japan was pertaining to was indeed brown, but beside it, sat a bright green leaf. They were connected by a single stem. "How odd, Yao-san, that a young leaf should already be here so early," Japan observed.

"I guess it grew up too fast, aru," China said, still in deep contemplation.

Suddenly a strong gust of wind blew, forcing both China and Japan to hold on to their clothing, so the wind won't ruin the newly-made mandarin jacket that China had and the kimono that Japan wore. In their haste to protect their garments, they did not notice the special leaves. The young, bright green one had broken off the common stem and was now flying away with the strong wind, going wherever it may go, while the brown leaf sat, now alone.

"Look, Yao-san, the young leaf had flown away," Japan said when the wind finally died down to a gentle breeze, carrying with it the young leaf."

Looking back at the young leaf's older companion, it now sat desolate, shivering in the slightest breeze. It could not hold on to the branch any longer, and with a final shudder, it broke off, and slowly fell to the ground, as if it had died because of the young leaf's departure.

"It was not ready to die yet, aru," China said, picking up the leaf and taking note of the few remnants of green on it.

"The younger one was too eager to grow up and leave," Japan said.

"Look at the moon, aru," China said, pointing at the heavenly body. "It looks like a rabbit is making medicine on it."

"No, Yao-san…I think they are pounding mochi," Japan said, squinting for a closer observation.

China sighed. _He is growing up, aru…He is beginning to think independently now. _

With that, China ushered Japan back into the house, as it was already suppertime.


	4. Winter

****Oh, my gosh.

I am _**terribly**_ sorry for updating this just now. A lot has happened within the past year, and I only found time now to be able to update this.

Moving on, here is the final season, Winter. Enjoy.

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><p><strong>Winter<strong>

_Winter is the coldest of all the seasons. For some places there may be snow, for others there may simply be a drop in temperature. Still, the common ground is that winter will leave you shivering and asking for some warmth, be it whatever form or from whatever source. It is not only the coldest in terms of physical temperatures, but also in emotional and spiritual meanings as well. For those who have a source of warmth like their families, then blessed be those souls, for they do not suffer the pains of winter's bitter cold. However, there are those who have nobody or nothing to give them the much-needed comfort from the unforgiving temperatures. For those people, nobody is present to give them a smile, or a hug, because they stand alone in this world, fending only for themselves. Some of these people were abandoned by their warmth, cut off from them like the younger leaf that left its older companion, severed completely like a limb that had no more use. For some of these people, they cannot stand a life without warmth, and simply cry, pitying themselves and mourning for the lack of someone to give them even just a simple hug. Yet for some, they must keep a straight face and face the world, appearing to be perfectly fine, but deep down, dying from the cold. _

The cold snow crunched against Yao's shoes as he walked back to his palace in his army uniform. "Aiyaa," he said. "It's so cold, aru."

Looking around, he saw nothing but silver, white and gray, and felt nothing but cold against his exposed face and hands. The trees had no leaves; its branches were covered with snow. The sky was grayish-white, and upon looking at it, there was a sense of foreboding that one could feel. When he finally came upon the palace doors, he hesitated for awhile, and sat down on the porch. As he did, he looked around once more, and put a hand by the spot next to him, remembering who sat there a long, long time ago.

He remembered how they first met.

_His speech was stopped by a peculiar sight: a young boy, no older than three, was standing at a grove of thick bamboo stalks, face stoic but eyes betraying the feeling of fear._

_Moved by the boy's appearance, Yao approached him and said, "Ni hao, aru~ I am China. You can call me Yao. It must have been very difficult for you to be born in such an area. If you want, you can come home with me, so you'll have a safe place to stay, aru. What's your name, by the way?"_

_The child looked at Yao with his expressionless brown eyes and said, "Hello, China-of-where-the-sun-sets. I am Japan, of-where-the-sun-rises." _

He then remembered how that same person began to grow in the following years.

_"This is a wonderful invention, aru~!" Yao said as he admired the puppet that Japan built to serve tea that afternoon. "A great display of ingenuity by my little brother!" he said, praising the invention once more._

_"Thank you, Yao-san," Japan replied, a small smile forming on his lips. "I am glad you like it."_

And he remembered how, not too long ago, that person grew into something more profound.

_Japan and China sat by their porch, watching the brown leaves fall slowly from the branches, contemplating on why the leaves turn brown and fall every year._

_"Why do you think it happens, Yao-san?" Japan asked, eyeing one particularly lifeless leaf by his foot._

_"Hm…" China said, in deep thought. "Maybe it is because the old leaves have served their purpose, and that it is time for the young ones to take their place…" he said, wondering if what he just did made any sense._

_"Is it not always like that, Yao-san? Even with the birds, the butterflies…and humans too?" Japan questioned the older, wiser man._

_"You are right, Japan…." China said, trailing off._

_"Speaking of serving their purpose…what do you plan to do next, Japan?" China asked his younger brother._

_"The Westerners are beginning to take over our Asian brothers and sisters, and I do not like the way it is turning out to be."_

_China could sense the seriousness in Japan's voice. "So what do you plan to do about it?"_

_"I must become stronger, Yao-san," Japan said, determination in his tone. "I must have enough strength to resist the Westerners' influence."_

And now here he was, sitting alone in the dark, feeling that hauntingly empty spot where Japan used to sit during the afternoons. He remembered his little brother with a bittersweet feeling. Now, they were against each other in this war…He could not believe it himself, his innocent little brother growing to change so fast into a stranger. Not able to take any more, Yao began to cry. He did not sob or sniff, he simply let the tears fall from his brown eyes onto that beloved spot, mourning for his loss, and his loneliness. The winds howled; the snow fell, the ice cold temperature sliced against his unprotected face, neck and hands. Snow dropped onto his head, chilling him even more, but nothing could move him more than the feeling of his brother, now his enemy…and if they lost this war, perhaps his executioner.

He did not know how long he must have sat there, but when he was finally done, the sky was dark, and everything was dangerous as the night now.

With a final sigh, he stood up and retreated into the palace, lost and defeated.


End file.
